I was debating whether to go play on Friday night as usual or go out to one of the several local weekend events, some of which sounded like potentially lots of fun. Failing to find a companion to accompany me, I decided not to go and to head to the card club instead.
I had the thought that it might not be the best decision though, not being sure I was in the best space, but then I ran into an acquaintance who brightened the late Friday afternoon and made me feel somewhat better. So off to playing I went.
I had the most interesting experience too. I had been toying with the idea of once again trying to move up a level. It seemed a bit quick; I had been playing for not quite a year and had been playing at the $3/$6 level ($4/$8 when I was in Vegas) for just a few months. Yet I’d been sighing up for both the $3/$6 game and the $6/$12 game for a few weeks, been getting called first for the $3/$6 game, and when my name came up for $6/$12, declined to move.
This time I put my name up only for $6/$12. It was a short board and I sat down within about a half hour, getting the #5 seat, one of my favorites.
I surveyed the table and saw a somewhat large stack to my right, in the #2 seat, and nothing else that seemed dominant. I bought $300 in chips and waited a couple of hands for the big blind.
Strangely, for the first time, I didn’t feel nervous. Previously, when I first began at the $1/$2 level, and every time I’d tried moving up a level, I felt quite nervous when I sat down at the table. Not tonight. Maybe it was in part because I’d been reading a new (to me) poker book, Championship Hold ‘Em, by T.J. Cloutier and Tom McEvoy. I felt comfortable with what I was learning from that book, and I’m guessing that this translated into no nervousness at this new level.
But I’d also been winning steadily at the $3/$6 level, having posted wins to my log on six consecutive Fridays, and had built my cash game bankroll to about $900, and so even if I flamed out, I’d still have a good cushion to fall back on.
Early on I noticed two things: the game wasn’t quite as loose as the $3/$6 game, and the tokes were routinely smaller than the $3/$6 game.
Unless the pots are small, I typically have seen a $2 toke at the $3/$6 level. Here, at $6/$12, almost ever pot resulting in the winner asking for a chop, for change for a single $2 chip that was the chip in play at this level. As a result, even though pots monetarily were typically higher than in $3/$6, the dealer often got just a $1 toke.
Then again, I can’t say this was universal. I noticed that this was pretty consistent for the first couple of hours, but then I guess the tone of the table changed, because in the last couple of hours, tokes were more often a full $2 chip. Go figure.
I decided I wanted to start out playing conservatively. Even so, I began with cold cards. Almost nothing playable, and when I did venture into the pot, either with a call or a raise, nothing developed on the flop and I had to let the hands go.
I noticed that the player immediately to my left was an any-king player. I got slightly burned by this early when I went up with him head-to-head and he filled out, but I was able to push this advantage later.
Later in the evening, most of the table to the left of me was rather tight, mucking frequently pre-flop, while the players on my right limped in as often as the players on my left mucked. Three or four or five limpers when I was in late position was enough for me to take a stab on occasion when I had a high suited connecter, but that happened rarely. The only time all night I got AA, it was in early position, and when I raised (after being quiet for some time), everyone folded and I got the blinds.
I was feeling a bit unlucky, but not bad. I didn’t think I was making many bad decisions. For example, I’d raise with AK offsuit, and when the flop came QQ rag I’d get out on a bet.
I made a decision I wanted to push a pair of pocket jacks hard on ehand in late position and raised pre-flop. A few people stayed with me and the flop came all undercards, not coordinated in any way. I pushed it hard again, raising when it was bet before me, and I ended up head-to-head with a player just o my left. The turn and river were not terribly threatening, and I continued to push, getting called all the way, and the pair of jacks held up for a nice pot.
One motto that I’m trying to learn and take to heart (along with making good decisions) is to not be afraid. That allowed me to keep betting here, and knowing that while it’s possible to get beaten, I don’t want it to be because I was afraid to bet or call.
That doesn’t mean being stupid or fearless. Every situation is different. But that’s why I also want to try and establish a bit of a table image, of someone who will push when I have good cards. As a result, sometimes no one calls my early raise and I win just the blinds with AA. But sometimes I’ll push, get beaten, muck, and leave ‘em wondering what I might have had. Then when I push again, there’s that doubt in their mind, and when I push with a power hand, or with a good hand that’s helped by the flop, I often can win a sizeable pot.
And that’s what happened. I took down two monster pots that took my stack from less than half my buy in to 50 percent more than my buy in. FUD (fear, uncertainly, and doubt) is a term coined within the computer industry, but it applies here as well. If I can plant a bit of FUD in the minds of my opponents, nurture it and let it grow a bit, maybe feed it a bit with a couple of strategic plays that seem to be wild (but could be classified as a semi-bluff), I can use that to my advantage and come away with a profitable night.
There’s a risk. Almost always, my stack goes down early. But I see it as an investment, an investment that has the possibility of a big payoff. So far, this has been working, but it also requires a commitment, mostly a commitment of time.
It takes time for this to work. It means a poker session of probably at least 4 hours, where 5-6 hours is more likely. This strategy won’t catch the players who come to the table and flame out quickly or the table changers who float from table to table. This is a strategy that can ensnare the long-term players who are also somewhat observant, as well as the players who just toss their chips in.
I want people to respect what I do, to have an idea of what I’m playing, but I also want them to have some doubt.
I almost never show what I’ve played if I’m not called. I almost never tell when asked (and if I do tell, don’t be sure I’m telling the truth). My line when I’m asked what I had is invariably “two cards,” which is the utter truth, sometimes accompanied by a small, friendly smile.
Part of this too is because I’m under no illusion that I’m that good a player, if for no other reason that I’ve not even been playing a year. I don’t have the memory for hands that many other players do, the memory for player’s plays and tells, the memory and mind to play correct strategy and recognize situations. I know that I’ll never be an elite player—and I don’t aspire to be—but that means that I also want to give myself every edge possible.
If someone wants to show their mucked cards, I am inwardly thankful, and then I try to use that information to beat them. I may be not many things, but I am competitive. I want to win. I want to improve my game to the best of my own capabilities. Both of those are goals I am reaching.
Meanwhile, I played for 4 ½ hours at the $6/$12 table without ever feeling a bit nervous (and without making too many bad decisions), and took out a tidy net win of $210 by winning 10 pots.